The Reason He Fights
by Bao Blossom
Summary: "I did not force you to be here! A man should fight for what he believes in. At least that is the way of the soldiers of the Varden." "You're right, because it is not by force that I am standing here today Lady Nasuada," M&N find each other in battle.


Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, Eldest or Brisingr these are simply the hopeful musings of a fan.

Summary: The battle under Farthen Dur left us M/N fans tons of possibilities for another 'casual' encounter between them. It's a shame no one has exploited it though, at least as far as I've seen, so here goes _my_ version. As always OOC is not to be expected so, enjoy.

The Obdurate Battle

**+o+o+o+**

He looked back and saw Eragon and Saphira disappear into the distance. How nice it would be to just fly up above the battle whenever you needed to recover. Unfortunately though, until he could muster a dragon of his own from thin air, he was stuck on the ground like everyone else. The battle around Murtagh loomed on and his body reacted without thinking. Whenever he was on the battlefield he found that the less conscious thoughts he had, the more likely he was to survive. There are fewer things as cunning and willing to survive as the body in danger. Instincts were all he needed.

Two Urgals came into his field of vision and he had already worked out how to counter them. An open circle to his right would knock the first Urgal away and allow him a clear cut of the second with the remaining momentum of the blow. Hopefully the spin attack would be enough to keep the first Urgal down just long enough for him to finish off the second one.

Giving a yell his rounded blow worked like he had hoped on the first Urgal giving him the possibility to concentrate on the second who had received the weakened finish. With a precise blow between the eyes he was quick to yank out his sword and turn back to the first Urgal. Unfortunately though, he had overestimated the time of recuperation. He felt a heavy pain on his left side and went flying amidst a sea of bodies. It was a good thing the beast felt like kicking him and not slicing him, else he would be with half his entrails over the floor now. He cursed for having gotten cocky and gave a small gasp amazed at the proximity of the charging beast. He wouldn't even have enough time to lift his blade, and this time the Urgal _was_ wielding his sword.

Death looming over him, he jerked when blood sprayed over his face from the Urgal's now penetrated skull. He rolled over just in time to evade the dead beast as it crashed into the bodies under him.

Looking back he saw out of the corner of his eye, an archer relaxing his grip on the bow and standing down. The arrow must have had a reinforced tip to have gone through the Urgal's skull with such ease. About to raise a hand in thanks he barked out when from behind the soldier a charging Kull was throttling everything that stood in its way. Somehow understanding Murtagh's cry, the man was quick to place his bow between him and the ram and slant outwards just enough to avoid getting hit head on. The archer still went flying out towards the fields, his bow destroyed, but he had most likely evaded death.

Outraged at his miss the Kull turned back on his heels and made for the fallen soldier again. Murtagh took advantage of the Kull's blinded rage and grabbed a hammer from a nearby body. With amazing force he swung the hammer out towards the ram trying to keep his balance after such a thrust. Amazingly enough, the hammer reached its mark not a second before the Kull rammed his horns into the archer. With a brief cry of victory Murtagh rushed over to the Kull hoping it would change targets to himself. Though the hammer had left a loose flap of broken skin over one of the Kull's legs it was hardly enough to kill him. Rushing up towards the beast Murtagh grabbed a fallen spear by his side and charged.

To battle a Kull alone was unwise and exhausting so the sooner he could end this, the better. He needed the ram's head to come down close enough for a quick ending blow. The fallen archer made a reckless move and right then Murtagh knew how he would solve the problem. Unwise in any other situation he lunged forwards with a frontal attack, the spear in his left hand and his sword in the other. The ram lowered his horns to repel the blade, but a split second before it happened the archer's foot caught the Kull at the base of his right leg. His foundation was thrown off and the first thing Murtagh had learned about combat was that if you don't have footing, you don't have anything. The beast was torn between looking back and regaining his footing or trying to ward off Murtagh's attack. Any choice would have been the wrong one, but in the split second it took him to fall the Kull jammed his horn into Murtagh's shoulder. Deciding that would hurt later Murtagh used the spear in his left hand to deflect the beast's horns and get a clear shot at his neck. When they hit the ground the beast stumbled to get up but only inserted himself deeper into Murtagh's blade which had been kept at the Kull's neck.

Quite please with himself Murtagh jerked his sword out of the Kull's spine and cursed when a searing pain rushed up his shoulder almost making him drop his sword. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he looked back down at the archer, without whom this ordeal would have been a lot harder. If anything, the archer had good aim and fast reflexes, even if that kick had been a bit rash. With Eragon gone it was wise to seek another ally in this mad battle. He glanced around making sure neither of them were in any immediate danger then lowered himself towards the soldier.

"Are you injured?" he asked hoping the man was still well enough to fight. It was with some surprise though, that he realized that the archer was no man at all, but a woman. Looking at him from afar he had guessed the archer was just a very young recruit, but no boy could have a bosom like that.

"My Lady! What on earth are you doing on the battlefield?"

Shock in her movements she threw off her leather hood to reveal darkened skin and large almond shaped eyes, "How did you recognize me!"

His jaw dropped and he found that the air in his lungs refused to move in one or any direction, "Nasuada!"

She stared back at him with the same surprise he wore, noticing he really hadn't made her out to be Ajihad's daughter, but rather just a woman on the battlefield. Up until she had decided to expose herself with utter stupidity that was.

He tried to portray so many things at once that all that came out of his mouth was gibberish. He shut his eyes, shaking his head and ordering his thoughts. "You should not be here!" he barked.

Dismay was soon replaced with anger after his comment, "What right do _you_ have to deny that I fight for my people?" she yelled back.

Murtagh shook his head as her words did nothing to ease his preoccupation or frustration. This was not the time...

"You're just like my father!" she went on, "Thinking he can---"

"I don't care!" he yelled with such rage she actually backed away, "Keep your thoughts to yourself! Right now there is a battle around us and for whatever reason we have found each other. So stay close and protected, because I'm not about to let you kill yourself."

It was not a request. Because even if her pride refused to be 'protected', he had made sense. Now all she could do was allow him to bring her back up to her feet and towards the nearest brawl. Her bow had been broken serving as a temporary shield and now she would have to depend on her long sword and dagger. She brushed away the remaining splinters of wood from over her tunic saddened by her loss. That bow had been a gift from the elves. It had been hers for many years now and there were few like it. This is why she grimaced when he pushed an abandoned bow from the battlefield in her face.

"Here," he said unwilling to hear her opinion, "From what I saw you work best as a long range fighter, which is good for me. I can fight at ease knowing you are away and almost certain I will not accidentally be hit by your arrows."

"I do not have any more arrows," she said stiffly. The last one had been used to save his life.

He hissed through gritted teeth and she tensed. It was only for a second though because he continued through the battlefield giving her a curt nod, "Then take some from the field. The spoils of war are many, you need but look around."

He was right, all around her lay men with half empty quivers and many others with arrows embedded in their bodies. She would leave those be though.

"Keep back, but stay close," he said leaving her to retrieve her arrows.

"Wait!" she called out taking his shoulder. His earlier grimace had not been of annoyance, "You're injured aren't you?"

"I'm fine," he tried loosening himself from her grip but yelped when she purposely pulled down on his arm making him cringe. If he had planned to deny it, she had just made it a lot harder.

"I can still fight," he argued.

"With your dominant hand crippled?" she asked dryly, "I've seen your skills but how long could you possibly hold out against a war trained Kull in your state?"

"Well I'll have to find out now, won't I?" he pulled back when her other hand came over his forearm.

"Have you ever fought injured before?" she demanded.

"Once or twice. Though I much rather not get injured to begin with," he answered derisively.

"Then how do you know you can even fight?" she asked pushing herself into his face.

"I can and I will," he said standing his ground.

"What good would it do you to go out there and be overcome in two moves?"

"I will last more than that."

"Three then? The outcome will still be the same."

"I have to do this."

"You must heal first."

"No I have to fight!" he yelled suddenly.

"Why!" she asked just as angered. "What do you fight so fervently in a battle that is not even your own?"

Loosing his patience he was only subtly aware that while they were throwing back words her hands had found their way up his arm, ripped off his sleeve and were pressing temptingly over his injured shoulder. Not sure if he should answer the ground beneath his feet swayed as with one hand she pulled hard on his arm and with the other she pushed back his shoulder. Something popped, painfully. He doubled over, wrenching his arm away from her and biting his tongue to hold in the curses. Murtagh looked up to her crossly, but his initial argument was caught in his throat when he realized his arm was no longer throbbing. She paid little attention to his incredulous expression and took his arm back in her hands. With what remained of the sleeve she had ripped off, Nasuada fastened his shoulder tightly being careful not to cut off the flow of blood. Her method had been a bit unorthodox but, effective.

"It was you," Murtagh said as it dawned on him.

She looked up at him with the same underlying fierceness he had seen in her eyes the day they met as she finished tying the bandage.

"I'm here because of you," he said again.

"I did not force you to be here!" she shot back outraged, "A man should fight for what he believes in. At least that is the way of the soldiers of the Varden. If there is no goal, no ideal, or nothing to protect, then there is no reason–"

"You're right," he interrupted, wanting her to understand, "Because it is not by force that I am standing here today, Lady Nasuada."

She looked up at him with nervousness rising from her gut; she had a feeling she knew where this was going. He set his healed hand over hers and continued.

"You were the one who _convinced_ your father to let me fight; you knew I wanted to prove to him that I am not your enemy. That I am not my father."

She hesitated before answering, "I, had no say in my father's decision. I did not even expect you to be here."

Murtagh raised a brow, "He told me so."

She made a small noise in the back of her throat and looked away, hoping that the grime that covered her face and her dark skin were enough to conceal the redness of her cheeks, "Well it was ultimately your choice. You don't seem like the kind of man who fights just because he is ordered to, but rather, for something he believes in," she argued.

"It _was_ you!" he realized half laughing.

"Well, I did not think it was something my father would have mentioned to you at all but—."

"He didn't."

She looked up to him in horror, "What?"

"You did this for me?" he asked in an awed voice.

Murtagh watched rather amused as she realized how obvious the trap had been and seemed to hiss at her carelessness. Or possibly she was just angry at him. A spontaneous smile came to his lips and he noticed he had been doing it a lot these last two days; maybe it had something to do with her. Of course this probably wasn't the best of circumstances to sit around and ponder it. Grabbing his sword he was quick to push himself up to his feet once again. He gave her a quick nod in appreciation and ran back to the active battlefield. "Stay safe my Lady, and thank you."

"Murtagh!" she called out before she could stop herself.

He glanced back expectantly, urging her to say what she needed so he could be off. Now what? She thought to herself stupidly. What did she expect to say to him? What she was feeling was ridiculous and naïve and so far from appropriate, especially at a time like this. No, if she said something now she was sure she would regret it. When she failed to continue his gaze softened.

"I think, there is still much to be said Lady Nasuada, but now is not the time."

She knitted her brows not surprised by the knowledge that he knew what her intentions had been. They where both adults after all, "We are in the middle of a battle Murtagh, there may not be another time. If not now, then when?"

He allowed himself a smug grin, "After we win of course."

ooooooooo

It was not going good. It had been about a half hour since he had last seen Eragon or Saphira and worry was building up in the back of his mind. Aside from that, the Varden's soldiers were thinning out amongst the hordes of Urgals that did not seem to stop coming. Optimistically, they would last for what was left of the hour before they were completely over taken.

An arrow whizzed past his ear and caught an oncoming Urgal in the throat leaving him exposed to Murtagh's sword. He lopped off the beast's head then passed onto the next one, as he had been doing for far too long now. The closest ally he had at the moment, besides Nasuada, was a shrinking group of dwarfs more than twenty feet away. There were Urgals coming from every direction, never stopping, getting stronger, or maybe they were just growing tired. Either way, they would need a miracle. He heard another Kull give a mighty cry and start thundering towards him. Jerking his sword out of another ram he turned, ready for the Kull.

He was perplexed however when an eerie wave of tranquility spread throughout the battle field from the center of Tronjheim. The charging ram stopped at mid pace and his demeanor changed completely. Afraid to move, Murtagh looked from one frozen Urgal to the next all in a similar state wondering if this was some sort of elaborate battle tactic. When none moved he looked towards Nasuada making sure she was still unharmed. She removed her leather hood and looked around with the same rapt expression he and the rest of the Varden's men wore. Above them the sky darkened momentarily before streaks of colors he had never seen before flew out from the center of the city. Looking back down at the Urgals he saw that every single one of them was staring at the sky in torpor, their weapons and the fight forgotten. Something big had happened, but the time for questions would come later.

Nasuada seemed to share his musings because not a moment later the air behind him whistled and an Urgal hit the ground when her arrow hit its mark. The rest around him seemed to be mystified as to why their comrade had dropped and were having trouble understanding why and where they were. Murtagh gave a fierce battle cry for those around him to hear. They could not waste this opportunity and he was pleased when from all directions, the soldiers of the Varden joined in. Battling confused Urgals was nothing compared to what they had been doing until now. Then, utterly miraculous as it was, the Urgal's started fighting amongst themselves. They looked from one to the other slaying anyone that was not of their colors. Unorganized, stunned and killing each other, this was hardly a fair fight. Within minutes the overall number of Urgals had dropped by more than half. The Varden gained back the ground they had lost and were now pushing the remaining groups away into the tunnels again. They were actually, winning.

Suspecting this had something to do with Eragon he allowed himself an excited war cry after what was left of Urgals in his terrain were either slain or forced to retreat. He inspected the grounds once again and saw similar faces of astonished joy amongst the dwarfs and humans that had won the battle. It was over. Somewhere in the distance, a dwarf started a mighty victory cry that made its way to Murtagh's throat and beyond.

"Murtagh!"

He turned to Nasuada, her hood forgotten, rushing down towards him with the most striking smile upon her face. Her clothes torn and bloody, her hair untamed with blotches of mud and her face covered in grime, he had never seen a more beautiful sight. He opened his arms by instinct as she discarded her bow and leaped towards him. All weariness gone from his body, he came to life when she crashed into his chest. They whirled in place twice before he was able to set her down again.

"We won!" she somewhat asked.

"We won," he confirmed.

Letting out a wet chuckle Nasuada pulled away just enough to see his face and with fire dancing in her eyes she pushed herself up to his lips. He pulled back unsure of what she was doing, but when her lips came over his, everything vanished in an explosion of colors and emotions. Unlike anything he had ever experienced he simply could not comprehend what was going on. Wave after wave of pleasure came crashing down over his already torpid brain while a surge of, _something_, rushed from his mouth through his stomach and all the way down to his toes. A kiss? This was surreal to him. He had experienced nothing with such fervor, with such intensity behind it ever before. If it always felt like this, why in the world would anyone ever want to stop?

She pulled away taking in a deep breath and looked at him with an unreadable expression. Or maybe what her face portrayed was crystal clear, but he could not break out of the hazy mist that still numbed his senses. Her smelled enveloped him with comfort. Her breath came in hot bursts over the hollow of his neck. His eyes were glued to her face as piece by piece everything that had just happened was played over and over again in his head. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and explode, his legs felt like they were about to fail him, he felt weightless and fuzzy and a bit sick. It was amazing.

"—Still have a job to do men!" a voice from far off spoke in some strange language he could not understand.

There was a flicker of fear in Nasuada's eyes and she suddenly pulled away from him and ducked. Missing her warmth he felt as if someone had slapped him out of a pleasant dream. Someone was coming, talking to him. The world around him stopped spinning and he came back to reality.

"Soldiers," called out a familiar voice.

He turned and found Ajihad and Jörmundur riding towards them with a few more men behind them, Orik the dwarf was among them. Ajihad looked amused at discovering Murtagh and stopped a few feet away from where he stood.

"I was told you fought well Morzanson," Orik commented upon arrival.

Murtagh scowled as any pleasant lingering feelings faded away. "Murtagh," he demanded.

Ajihad gave him a smile, "Indeed Murtagh, it seems we were wrong to judge you by your father's deeds. You have served the Varden well but there is still much to do. We may have warded off the Urgals here in the city but hundreds remain under the tunnels. The more we can slay before they escape and regroup, the better. We are gathering a small squadron of men for each of the tunnels they may have retreated too. If you are too weary or injured you may help by taking another injured soldier back to the city. Whatever you decide, you will no longer step into the city as a prisoner."

Still a bit dizzy Murtagh gave a light nod as he processed the request. "I can still fight," he assured, "I will go wherever I am needed."

"That is a good answer," Ajihad nodded, "And what about you there archer? Will you fight?"

Murtagh looked wirily at Nasuada and saw that she had managed to find her leather cap and was now standing behind Murtagh's shadow. Without looking up she grunted in response and nodded.

"Why do you not answer our leader properly soldier?" Jörmundur asked looming in closer.

Nasuada tensed and took a step back.

"Uh, he's mute sir," Murtagh interceded.

"Mute?" Ajihad asked.

"Yes, he told me while on the battlefield."

Nasuada cringed behind him and he could almost feel her growling at his stupidity. He had realized it a second too late though.

"He _told_ you he was mute?" Ajihad questioned.

"Well, yes," Murtagh hesitated looking for plausible excuse, "He-- with, his hands. He communicates with hand signals. This means look out," he made a large arc with his hand, "And this means behind you," with the same hand he touched his opposite shoulder. "Arrow," he traced an imaginary arrow in the air. From behind him Nasuada pushed her foot into his heel and he tried not to cringe.

With raised brows Ajihad and Jörmundur exchanged doubtful looks.

"Well, so long as they understand each other," Orik shrugged.

Murtagh gave an indistinct grunt and Nasuada straighten up a bit

"So, I leave you under Orik's command. We'll rally up as many man as we can and meet back over there," motioned Ajihad to a growing group of men about fifty feet away, "May your swords stay sharp."

Nasuada looked up to Murtagh as he nodded and watched her father and his men ride off towards the next group of celebrating soldiers. What was it about this man that made her become this, this woman? What was special or rare or different than all the others she had met? And for all the gods in heaven why did it have to be him? The son of a man so evil you'd never know he used to be real. What would her father say?

He somewhat chuckled as he looked back towards her, "Sorry,"

She smiled back uncertainly at his flushed features. Though he may have been an idiot for so many reasons, he could not be dumber than her, for falling for him.

**XoXoXoX**

Author's Rambles: Thanks to Berauscht for the wake up call. I know these things I was just... moody? Anyway thank you. Oh and sorry about the action sequences... I suck at action. -_____-' But depending on the reviews I get for this piece I may have it in me to do their last encounter together, you know, before the twins... Not sure though, maybe I should just leave it at this. *shrugs* what do _you_ think?


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